


Morning

by slashmania



Series: 50 Thousand Words (from October to December!) [31]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Breakfast, Caregiving Eames, Endearments, Hungover Arthur, M/M, Morning, Morning after night spent drinking, finger gun, maybe accidental heart shaped pancakes, still a nice gesture, yes I said finger gun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:55:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22053640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmania/pseuds/slashmania
Summary: “Good morning, sunshine!”“I’m going to shoot you,” Arthur softly threatened the forger.
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Series: 50 Thousand Words (from October to December!) [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1503791
Kudos: 41





	Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Day 31: Morning  
> 936 words
> 
> And it's over!!!

When Arthur woke up, groggy and tired and wanting to crack his own head open because at first it sort of sounded like a good plan to deal with the brewing headache, the first thing he noticed was Eames standing next to the bed. And when Eames saw that Arthur was up, he greeted him with more enthusiasm and good cheer than the previous night spent drinking warranted.

That lucky bastard.

“Good morning, sunshine!”

“I’m going to shoot you,” Arthur softly threatened the forger.

But Arthur didn’t sleep with his gun beneath his pillow anymore, even if he had the safety on, so he rolled on his side, raised his arm, did a finger gun so he was aiming his index finger in Eames’s general direction and said, “Bang! Bang!”

He basically disarmed his finger gun by shaking his hand out and letting his arm drop to the bed again. “There. You’ve been shot now so you can leave me alone with my hangover.”

Arthur then pulled the blankets over his head, set on ignoring Eames and his stupidly wide smile and his annoyingly bright outlook on what should have been just as horrible a morning for him, as the man jokingly pressed his hands against his chest where Arthur had been aiming the finger gun at him.

“My baby shot me down!” Eames cried in homage to the Cher song. “Aw, darling, are you angry that I’m not as sick as you are?”

Arthur huffed; his voice a little muffled behind the blankets, and said, “You’re an ass.”

And then Arthur asked, “What do you mean ‘Not as sick’? Are you not feeling good either?”

Arthur pulled the blankets down so he could get a proper look at Eames. He was a little pale, maybe. “How’s your head?”

“It could be better,” Eames admitted, “but I’ve taken some medicine for it. I thought that you might want breakfast.”

Arthur sat up in bed, pressed one hand against his head as the throbbing started again, and sighed.

“On the nightstand, next to the glass of water, pet,” Eames said.

Arthur looked there and found the medicine waiting there. He took the pills, drank the water, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You’re too nice to me.”

Eames sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at Arthur. “I’m actually a horrible caregiver. I learned everything I needed about a bad bedside manner from Yusuf—he hates taking care of sick people! But I’m willing to go the extra mile for you, Arthur. The morning after a night of drinking can be awful.”

“I’m sorry I shot you with a finger gun,” Arthur apologized.

“May I still call you sunshine?”

“But you already have so many endearments for me!”

“There will never be enough endearments, Arthur!” Eames nodded decisively. “You are my darling, my dear, my pet, my love, and my sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray-”

“If you recite the whole song I will reconsider my position on not killing you.”

Eames helpfully rose from his seat on the edge of the bed so Arthur could kick the blankets away and get out of bed.

“I made you pancakes and bacon,” Eames said with a smile. “Is that enough to get a reprieve?”

“Yes. Instant reprieve! This isn’t the hangover talking,” Arthur began, “because yes, you made me my favorite hangover breakfast, but I love you when I don’t have a hangover too.”

“I also made you eggs, love,” Eames said as they walked together to the kitchen.

“You can call me sunshine,” Arthur said. “You can use whatever little endearment you want.”

Eames’s eyes widened. “The thought of food is making you very lenient, Arthur. I like this. I like this _a lot_ ,” Eames commented.

“You learned from Yusuf’s bad caregiving to be an excellent caregiver for me. You love me enough to deal with being shot with finger guns, and how I try to stop you from using little endearments for me. You love me despite all of that,” Arthur said as they entered the kitchen warmed by the morning sunshine coming through the windows and from the oven on the warming setting so their food didn’t get cold.

Arthur got the cups of coffee for them both while Eames took the plates from the oven. They sat together at the table that Eames had already prepared with various condiments, butter, syrup, and half and half.

Arthur was looking down at plate of pancakes, eggs, and bacon that Eames had set down in front of him.

“My pancakes are a funny shape. They almost look heart shaped,” Arthur commented while covering them in a small amount of syrup.

Eames didn’t hide his smile, but shrugged and said, “You know how it is with pancakes. The first few usually come out looking a little weird. I gave you the test pancakes because I thought the shape was ironic.”

“And you love me.”

“No arguments from me, sunshine,” Eames answered before taking a sip of his coffee.

What they had maybe was a little unconventional because when one first thought of it dangerous dream criminals shouldn’t be falling in love and getting so domestic but how did anyone else know that for sure? It wouldn’t make plausible sense for the lives of dream criminals to continue if they didn’t see to their daily needs. Cooking, cleaning, chores, and repairs were things that happened to everyone! Even dream criminals.

So, like anyone else would and could, Arthur and Eames had a pleasant breakfast where no one was shot literally!


End file.
